It was bigger than a mouse, it was bigger than a house
It flew through the air, it dipped and it dived. It was a huge bloody sucker, nearly 6 miles wide.
It ate up the mouse, and it started for me. That was when I knew I really must flee.
But I was glued to the spot, and it flew down my shirt. Frantic to get it out, I jerked and I jerked.
It sunk its fangs in, and I knew I was dead. A waste, I knew, because it had just been fed.
It couldn't eat me, I was far too much mass. But down I went, fast, and landed flat on my ass.
I lolled and I shuddered, then continued to fall, downwards - but backwards! It COULDN'T survive.
And so I died with a smile on my face. It may have bitten me...but I'd crushed it's carapace.
I heard it scream, and squeal with great pain. I laughed, though it hurt...It was worth the great strain.
Its blood and its guts oozed from beneath my limp form, mixing with the venom which had quieted my storm.
And there my friends found me, and wept in dismay...they said I was strange, but liked...in a way.
The masses came to my funeral weeping, slightly grossed out by the spider (still seeping).
They lowered me into the ground with great care...but the coffin did flip, and sent me hurtling through the air!
I must've flown for a mile or more, I only stopped when I hit a large door.
The people weren't happy, in fact they were pissed. But what could they do? I was dead - my ass they could kiss.
They hauled me back to the graveyard, quite grim. I'd been dead far too long, rigor mortis set in.
My gravesite was ready, but my coffin destroyed. The voices were heard: "Just chuck him in, he won't mind!"
They filled in the hole, I started to rot. And in a short time of me there wasn't a lot.
Today all that's left is a stone, and here's what it says: "Here lies a carcass - at least we THINK that he's dead."

This poem was written by Michael Martin and he would appreciate any and all comments regarding it. Thank you.